The Law of Unexpected Consequences
by ItsaVikingThing
Summary: Under the guidance of the Gods and their Chosen, Elysium knew only peace and prosperity. But it's been 100 years since the Gods last interacted with the mortal world, and now Elysium is on the brink of civli war. Can three young women save the country from destroying itself?
1. After the Storm

There are a lot of masts on the water today. Not enough of them are upright.

David Madsen picks his way through the rubble-strewn streets of Arcadia, trying to avoid the milling citizens as much as the debris underfoot. He makes his way towards the beach, glaring at anyone who jostles him. But that's just reflex, not anger. Most of the people on the streets are too dazed to even notice him at all.

Yesterday, a storm swept across the seas like some demon from the Void and howled through Arcadia for most of the afternoon. The city was hit badly enough, but it was the poor fuckers shipboard that had the worst of it. Several vessels lost, all lives with them, as far as anyone can tell. A lot of Arcadians have lost family, friends, homes, jobs in the span of a few hours. Rumour is that even Duke Prescott had a narrow escape, might have died at the docks if his carriage hadn't been delayed.

A bad enough day for Arcadia, for Elysium too, if that was all. But Duke Prescott was going to the docks because yesterday was the day of the royal visit. King Gregory's ship is thought to have gone down just a few leagues short of the safety of Arcadia' s harbour. And if the young King's dead, without an heir to inherit his divine essence, then a miracle is the only thing that'll keep the Dukes of Elysium from tearing the country apart in pursuit of the crown.

Pity the Age of Miracles ended almost a hundred years ago. The Gods have been silent since.

David makes his way onto the beach. He was a soldier once, fought against the Northern clans, helped fight them to a standstill. He's no stranger to serving his country. But now he's a citizen and today he's got other duties. David is on the hunt. Marcus Fletcher: another lowlife gambler whose marker Magistrate Wells has called due.

It's not a job David has much taste for, but on a day like this, it's nice to have something simple to focus on. Wells might have had wine on his breath this morning, but he still made a point of telling David and his men that business would continue as normal. Even if it is tracking down a loser with gambling debts. It's reassuring to know that just because the world's suddenly skewed on its axis, there's still order being maintained. Duke Prescott's guard are busy setting things to right in the city. There's as many sailors as are able setting canvas to rigging, searching for survivors. In his official capacity, Magistrate Wells is seeing to the legal needs of the city. And in his unofficial role, he has David making sure the shady side of the street's in order.

David almost smiles, now, remembering Wells saying "Yesterday was bad, and tomorrow might be worse. So now's the time for some normalcy. For routine. We get to decide _right now_ what sort of future we want to be living. Let's make it the right one."

Say what you will about Wells, it's an inspiring thought. Even if maintaining order means some people have no future at all.

Finding Marcus is easy enough, once David gets away from the docks. Marcus was a sailor, he knows the currents here and, being an opportunistic little weasel, he's no doubt been amongst the first looking for salvage. It's not long before David spots the ragged figure picking at the wreckage on the shoreline, tossing items either onto a blanket or back into the sea.

David smiles grimly. He slips out his knife, keeps it down by his thigh as he picks his way through the sand and seaweed. Through the cords and spars and scraps of sailcloth.

Through the bodies.

David's faith is still there, shabby with neglect, but seeing all this? He wonders if the Gods are not just silent, but altogether absent, now.

He tries just to focus on his target.

"Any luck?"

Marcus whirls round, almost pitches over. "What? Who..." He pales at the sight of David. He hasn't even spotted the knife yet.

So David shows it to him, and chuckles. "From where I'm standing, it looks like you're not having any luck at all."

Marcus starts backing up, though there's only salt water behind him. "Madsen! I...I'll have the money, soon." He gestures wildly, "I'm putting it together. I just need a little time!"

"So I should just take a walk? Leave you to your pickings, crow?" It's not the anger that surprises David, just how good it feels to let some of it out. It's even better when Marcus squawks and trips on something on the shore, landing in a heap of twisted limbs.

David closes the gap between them, choosing his steps with care. "Let you pick the dead clean so you can live to drink and gamble another day?" He frowns down at the man floundering in the shallow water.

Marcus has tripped over the body of a girl.

As Marcus thrashes around, finally coming to his hands and knees in the surf, David looms over him. But he's looking at the girl, shaking his head. She's young, can't be more than 13 or 14. She's wrapped in a naval greatcoat, much too large for her. It's a wonder she made it to the beach at all. There's seaweed in her hair, and...no, that _is_ her hair, blue and green and purple like the ocean. David stops, startled. "Can't be...".

Both men jump when the girl stirs, coughs weakly. Opens pale blue eyes and whispers, "Dad?" Then slumps, exhausted.

Marcus is trembling, looks like he'd be sinking down to his knees, if he wasn't already on them. "She's alive. She's been blessed by the Gods! They've marked her..." He reaches towards the girl's hair.

David's lips thin. He plants his foot on Marcus's chest, shoves him onto his back.

"Don't touch her." He sheathes his knife, glad Marcus can't see his hands shake. Manages a growl. "Fetch that blanket."

As Marcus hurries to obey, David kneels down. The girl's passed out again, but she's still breathing steadily enough. David scoops her carefully out of the sand, carries her to where Marcus hovers, blanket in hand. David grabs it, clumsily wraps the girl up, making sure to cover her hair.

He fixes Marcus with his best glare. "Guess this is your lucky day, after all. Your debts are clear. But you don't breathe a word of this to anyone, you hear? Don't make me come find you again."

Then he's off, back up the beach and to Arcadia. Ignoring Marcus' babbled assurances, he concentrates on the warm breath of the child in his arms. Marked by the Gods. The first in generations.

David sticks to the back alleys, to the quiet lanes of Arcadia. There are plenty of people about on even these streets, but he doesn't draw much attention.

He's not the only one carrying a body, after all.

As he trudges back through the streets, rumour from the docks overtakes him. The King's ship has been found, ravaged by the storm. All hands lost.

The King is dead.

David's never been much for questioning faith. There's no disputing that the Gods were real, no arguing with the blessings they bestowed on the favoured bloodlines of Elyisum. Being born into the Age of Silence, he's accepted that the Gods no longer choose to intervene in mortal matters. But if the Gods were silent, there were still the priests and the blessed bloodlines, bearers of divine essence. Living proof of the will and works of the Gods. There was still an _order_ to things.

When he was young, he felt cheated to have been born after the Age of Miracles. To have missed his chance to witness the Gods in action. Now, he's beginning to think that might have been its own sort of blessing.

He hesitates at the turning. One way to the High Temple. Another to Blackwell Scriptorium and the Magistrate.

David has little enough faith in Wells. He's a drunk, a crook and Duke Prescott's creature. He's also David's boss, and he _does_ understand the needs of the city better than most. This is something he should know about.

On the other hand, if this really is a miracle, then surely he should take her to the priests. If the Gods' own servants don't know what to make of the girl, no one will. Then again, the priesthood isn't what it once was. The Age of Silence has lasted long enough that no one really remembers what it was like to live with the direct guidance of the Gods. The priests cling to the memory of their power and relevance, even as their congregation dwindles year on year.

What would they do to get their hands on the girl? What wouldn't they do, once they did?

It hits him, then. The child in his arms might have been marked by the Gods, but it's David who has to decide, _right now_ , what kind of future she'll be living.

He grits his teeth, shifts her in his arms.

Then he starts walking.


	2. Five Years Gone

She's still Chloe Price in her heart, in her head. Even if she's gone by Chloe Madsen these last five years.

She's only had a few hours sleep. She snuck in late again last night, scaled the wall and slipped through the window like a velvet-slippered mouse. Mostly out of habit, though. By the small hours, David's either out being the Magistrate's left hand or he's passed out drunk. It's not yet dawn, but there's no way back into dreams and getting up now means facing David. So she lies quiet and remembers.

She remembers waking on a couch in this strange house five years ago, scared and confused. She remembers David scowling down at her.

"You're awake. Good. What's your name?"

"Wh...Chloe. I'm Chloe Price. Where's-"

"You need to listen to me. You survived the storm, but no one else did. And no one can know what's happened. Do you understand?"

"N-no. You're scaring me! Where-"

"Do you have any other friends or relatives in Arcadia?"

"What? I...no." Not since the fever took her mother. Not since the Caulfields left. "Please. Where's my dad?"

"Anyone who was on that ship with you is gone. Listen to me, this is important...cry later! _Listen_ to me, now. You're Chloe Madsen. You're my niece, from Skald. I'm going to take care of you. I'll get you some dry clothes as soon as I can, but first we have to deal with _that_."

 _That_ was her hair. Last she remembered she'd had long, strawberry blonde locks. Now her hair was blue, green and purple like the sea. She wasn't given much time to adjust to that discovery before David grabbed a length of hair and went to work with a knife.

She really did cry, then, as he hacked and sawed at her hair and threw handfuls of it into the fire.

She hasn't cried in front of him since.

Not even when he told her about the storm, about the Gods marking her. Not even when he brought her the documents that made her, in the eyes of the law, Chloe Madsen, niece and ward of David Madsen.

Not even when he tried to burn her coat, though that time rage had made it easy to keep the tears at bay. She'd fought back and though he came close to hitting her, in the end he let her have her way.

They've fought often enough over the years, and that still counts as one of her few victories.

She lies awake with her eyes closed, waiting. When she hears his boots climbing the stairs she deepens her breathing, lets all thoughts slip away. She pretends to sleep through his quiet knock, the scrape of her door and his tired sigh.

She waits until she's sure he's gone for the day before she opens her eyes.

Chloe peers through the shutters and scowls. It's a bleary, drizzly sort of day in Arcadia.

She hates the rain.

"Five days. Just need to keep it together for five more days." She snorts, turns away from the window. "So maybe stop talking to yourself, Chloe. And get moving."

She starts getting dressed, pulling clothes over her long, lean frame. Linen trousers, dark, comfortable, loose.

Sleeveless leather jerkin next. Thin and flexible. Practically a second skin.

The boots are a year old and easily the nicest things she owns. A birthday gift from Magistrate Wells, delivered by David. Most of the other things he's given her over the years she's sold or thrown away. The boots are comfortable, sturdy, not too heavy. Perfect, really.

She hates Wells.

Broad belt, sabre in its sheath on her left hip. She's worked on it quite a bit, shaved off a little weight, adjusted the hilt and grip. It suits her about as well as any sword could. Not that she intends to do any sword work today, but with tensions in Arcadia getting worse all the time, it pays to show a little steel when you're on the streets.

She tucks her knife into a sheath at the small of her back. It pays to keep some steel hidden, too.

She puts on her green naval greatcoat. It's old, colour-faded and crudely mended, but it's not something she could ever bear to part with. It's not something she can bear anyone else touching, come to that. She doesn't remember much about the day of the storm, but she remembers her father wrapping this coat around her when the rain and the temperature started to fall on deck.

William Price.

She hugs herself for a moment. She likes to imagine she can still find some trace of his scent, his warmth.

Then she sighs, and goes back to her preparations. She tucks her sap into the outer right pocket, makes sure the picks and blades and other little tools are all where they should be.

Last is the bandanna. She tried shaving her head altogether, but enjoyed neither the look nor David's approval. So now she keeps it short and covered when she's going out. She doesn't agree with David on much, but she doesn't argue anymore when he tells her to avoid drawing attention to herself. She's got more reasons than David knows to want be a shadow these days.

Chloe hits the streets. Ah, the glory of the docks in the morning. It's hard work finding a part of the city that doesn't stink. At least the docks come by it honestly.

Chloe exchanges a few nods as she walks, absentmindedly scanning for threats. Not that there's many people likely to bother her in this part of town, what with her being a Madsen and all. Still, desperate times make for desperate people. Just the other day two starving clansmen had tried to mug her.

She gave them a few silvers after and let them limp away, pride hurt worse than anything else.

Time was Chloe wouldn't be allowed out of the house without an escort. Usually David, occasionally one of his band of thugs. To guard her, David would say. She may have been young and addled with grief and anger, but she could still tell the difference between a bodyguard and a jailer.

She's got a lot more freedom these days, partly because she's too good at giving her watchers the slip. Mostly, though, it's that there's no way out of Arcadia. Not for her. Since the death of King Gregory, Elysium hasn't quite spiralled into civil war. But there's mistrust between the Dukes, unrest amongst the northern clans. Travel into and out of the cities is carefully monitored. Even the meanest farmer needs a yard of paperwork to go from stead to market. Getting legal travel papers is hard, time consuming and expensive.

And in Arcadia, you have to go through Magistrate Wells to get legal papers. That isn't possible for Chloe. And, as she's discovered over nearly a year's worth of bribes and careful inquiries, David's the one helping Wells control most of the document forgers in the city, too. David's relaxed his vigilance on Chloe because even if she could sneak out of Arcadia, without legal papers she'd never get far.

And getting caught with forgeries merits a death sentence.

So David's less cautious and Chloe's used the degree of freedom she's won to her advantage. David's banned her from entering most legitimate trades. He claims he fears the consequences in the event of her public exposure as the first Chosen of the divine in a century. She's pretty sure that's a load. He probably just doesn't want her able to fend for herself.

But that's exactly what she's been doing. Unable to get a job openly, she's become familiar with Arcadia's underworld, instead. She's learned how to pick a pocket or a lock, wield a weapon or con a mark. David knows she's been a petty criminal for years, but hasn't chosen to do much about it. Except to growl at her and demand she show him respect and stay out of trouble. He has no idea quite how proficient a burglar she's become, nor how many friends she's made amongst the crooks who operate outside David and Wells' influence.

And he really has no idea how much money she's managed to put away, or how diligently she's been planning.

In just five more days, she's finally leaving Arcadia.

It's all arranged. She's bought a berth on the trading ship _Prosper_ , stashed a pack with travelling clothes and gear and arranged for provisions. All without tipping her hand to David or tugging too hard on any strand of Magistrate Wells' web.

The last thing, the most important thing, is her travel papers. It took a lot of doing, but she found someone willing to act as go-between and now Chloe's got a meeting at the _Two Whales_ tavern. She's picking up her forged documents today.

She hesitates for a moment, then gives in to impulse and turns toward the beach. It's not a habit she's indulged in months, but...it can't hurt, right?

In a few minutes she's striding over the sand then kneeling at the shore. She dips two fingers into the brine, rubs salt water across her lips and whispers a prayer to Hella, Goddess of the sea.

She waits until her knees protest, then snorts, stands and makes her way back to the waking streets of Arcadia.

Chloe has visited shrines and temples. She's prayed at the shore and cursed the night. She still hasn't heard so much as a whisper in response. The Gods may have marked her, but they remain silent as to why. Why she was spared when so many others died: her father, her mother, Ryan and...no. No time for that sorry shit right now. She unclenches her fists, swipes her eyes, breathes.

Chloe's wearing a smirk when she finally strides into the _Two Whales_.

Connor nods to her, shifts his bulk around enough to fill her a mug of ale, then slumps down on the bar again.

She takes a gulp and lets out a content sigh. "Anything fit to call breakfast around here?"

Connor grunts and jabs a thumb in the direction of the back room.

"Pleasure talking to you, Con. Later."

Chloe heads to the door with an 'X' carved into the surface and knocks. A few moments later there's the sound of a scraping bolt and the door opens. Chloe's greeted by the sight of Juliet Watson and the smell of bacon. She's not sure which one makes her happier, but there's nothing forced about the smile on Chloe's face now.

Juliet's around Chloe's age, an attractive lesser scion of minor nobility. She's got a fiery temper, an insatiable appetite for gossip and is a little bit gullible. Chloe dislikes gossip and has her own anger issues, so in the year she's known Juliet there's been a few...incidents. But Juliet's basically good-hearted and she's the one who's risking herself to get Chloe her documents.

That makes her a friend.

"Hey, Jules. How's business?"

"Not the best, I'm afraid. And best discussed in private."

Before Chloe can ask what that means, Rachel's voice reaches her.

"Morning, Chloe. You'd better come right in. I remember what happened to the last person who tried to stand between you and food."

Chloe steps into the room. The _Two Whales_ has a long history and its back room is part of the legend. This room has seen high stakes gaming, smugglers and pirates carousing, blood spilled, secrets sold and more deals decided than the entire Prescott ducal line can claim. That is, until King Gregory died and Sean Prescott decided to "clamp down on the wild and lawless elements of Arcadia". Which more or less meant put them in his employ or in shackles. The _Two Whales_ is a perfectly respectable establishment these days, the back room hired out only to perfectly respectable people.

Well. Respectable _looking_ people.

Elysium might have lost a king, but Arcadia's underworld has found a queen in the golden-haired Rachel Amber. Even in the dingy room eating bacon and eggs with a tin fork, she's beautiful and elegant. She's also as honest and charming a swindler as has ever preyed upon the nobles of Arcadia.

Chloe's maybe a little smitten.

But she trusts Rachel, like no one else in this place. Rachel has saved Chloe, more than once and in more ways than one. Juliet's been the face of this latest deal, but it's Rachel who put it all together. It's Rachel who has acted as fence and fixer for Chloe in the two years they've known each other. It's Rachel who's made it possible for Chloe to carve her own little niche in the underworld and ultimately to put her whole escape plan together. It's Rachel she's really going to miss when she leaves Arcadia.

Not that she's ever uttered a word of that aloud.

"Ah, breakfast!" She plonks herself down at the table and helps herself to a plate of food. She nods to the other woman at the table, "Hey, Rach."

Rachel's smile is warmer than the fire and preferable even to bacon. It's brief today, though, a little pained.

Juliet bolts the door and joins them, looking a little tense herself.

Chloe shovels some bacon into her mouth, then looks from one glum face to the other. "I'm guessing you're not about to make me happy."

Juliet fiddles with a cup of water. Rachel sighs, pushes her plate away. "Chloe, there's no easy way to say this. We don't have your papers."

"What? Shit. I _need_ those papers." She turns on Juliet. "You said there wouldn't be a problem. You said your contact was solid!"

Juliet's shaking her head. "Chloe, he is! I mean, he was! But..."

Rachel cuts in. "Daniel's been arrested, Chloe. The ducal guard picked him up last night, along with all the documents he was working on."

Chloe groans, pushes away from the table. She starts pacing. "There's got to be some other way. Didn't you say there was a new player in town?"

Juliet glances anxiously at Rachel, who offers up a little hope. "That's true. I still don't know who they are, exactly, but I've found out how to make contact. And I've seen some of their work. It's perfect. Blackwell quality. But it'll be expensive. 500 marks."

"Hella! That's almost double the fee!" Chloe frowns, thinks about how quickly she can put together enough coin to make up the difference. "Well, it'll be tight. But with what I've already given you, I can probably put the rest together in five days. Can you arrange it, Rach?"

She stops, sees the other two staring down at the table. "What?"

Rachel glances at Juliet, then shrugs. "I can arrange anything, you know that. But it's not going to be that easy."

Juliet bites her lip. "I had to pay Daniel in advance, Chloe. To cover the costs of materials. Your silver's gone, too."

Chloe takes a few quick steps away from the table and punches the wall hard enough to crack the timber. "This is bullshit! Fucking Wells. Fucking _Prescotts_." Chloe's head is throbbing and she feels suddenly too enclosed in this little room. She feels too enclosed in this city.

Then Rachel's by her side. She doesn't say anything, just takes Chloe's uninjured hand in hers and leads her back to the table. Chloe feels the anger recede, some of the tension leave her. Feels a little pang, too, when Rachel's soft hand leaves hers. Rachel sits back down, calmly sips from her cup. Juliet's not so unruffled.

"Void spare us, your hand! A-are you okay, Chloe?"

Chloe glances down. Her knuckles are a little tender, but there's not much pain and she knows they'll be healed before the morning's through.

"I'll be fine. Sorry I lost it there. I know it's not your fault, Jules. And I appreciate the risks you've taken for me. Both of you. It's just...to get so _close_..."

Before she can say anything else, Rachel cuts in again. "Don't give up just yet, Chlo. There's an...opportunity that's come up that could give you a chance to raise the money you need. Today."

Juliet looks startled. "What? The amphitheatre? Rachel, that's not a goo-"

Rachel raises her hand and Juliet subsides. "You may not like it, Chloe. But it's the only way I see that you can raise the money you need."

"Talk to me. If there's any chance I can still make it out on the _Prosper_ this week, I'll take it.

So Rachel tells her.

Chloe hates it.


	3. Blessings in Disguise

Kate Marsh's first glimpse of Arcadia's amphitheatre was from the docks yesterday. It's a huge and imposing building standing on a shoulder of land overlooking the bay.

She thought it was the Grand Temple.

Today, as she stares out around her nd feels the anticipation thrumming through the gathering crowds, she thinks maybe her first guess wasn't so mistaken.

There's little room for the Gods here, though. The swelling tide of anticipation focused on the sand of the arena floor has nothing to do with the divine.

There's going to be blood spilled there soon. That's what the crowds are here to worship.

Yesterday, Kate was too tired from her journey and too caught up in setting up the suite in the Ducal Palace to give much thought to today's entertainment. But now the reality of Duke Prescott's Grand Proving is sinking in.

Thousands of Arcadians, Northern clanspeople and even a few Mermedonians are here in honour of the Duke's guests from Skald. In her role as personal attendant to Lady Victoria Chase, Kate has to endure the entire spectacle by her mistress' side. And given that Lady Victoria Chase is daughter of the Duchess of Skald and betrothed to Duke Prescott's heir, Nathan, that means that Kate has a prime viewing spot in the Prescotts' box.

She feels nauseous.

Victoria appears unperturbed. She's beautiful, slim and graceful. She's able to sport her blonde hair short, in a warrior's style that she carries off effortlessly. She wears stylish silks today, along with her habitual scowl.

Strands of Kate's much longer, slightly darker hair are slowly escaping the bun on top of her head. She's fidgeting and trying to find a way to wipe the sweat off her palms without staining her dress. She may only be pretending to be a servant, but she's pretending to be a _Chase_ 's servant and that means what she's wearing is more expensive than anything she's ever owned.

Kate shifts awkwardly in her seat, wishing she could be a little more like Victoria. She's as comfortable in armour and wielding a straight sword as she is trading barbs in fashionable attire. Not that Victoria's likely to get much opportunity to practice her sword drill in the coming weeks. Just as Kate is playing a maid, Victoria is playing the role of spoiled heiress. With a little more conviction than Kate's comfortable with, in truth.

Victoria suddenly snaps her fingers in Kate's face. "Wake up, girl!"

Kate _is_ only eighteen, but she's nearly two months older than Victoria.

"Yes, my lady?"

Victoria leans in close to Kate, and not-so-coincidently away from Magistrate Wells' breath, and lowers her voice to a whisper.

"Could you try not to shake so much? I can see your knee bouncing!"

"I'm sorry. I don't like violence. And all these people..."

The only reason Kate's here is because of her gift. Oh, she's not like a member of the nobility, carrying echoes of the divine essence bestowed on their heroic ancestors by the Gods. She's certainly nothing like Victoria, whose ducal lineage means her blood swells with the essence of Aram the Just, Queen of the Gods. Kate's blessing is humbler, but to her, no less enriching. She has a sensitivity to the echoes that the Gods have left behind. She's attuned, unconsciously drawn, to their Works and essence; able to perceive, however dimly, the weave of Their labour in this world.

She's profoundly grateful for her talent, but it's also left her sensitive to extremes of emotion. Which is why she's sweating and squirming in her seat. Being amongst so many people in the grip of building bloodlust is deeply uncomfortable for her.

While Provings are in theory exercises designed to test the prowess of warriors in a friendly display of skill, in reality, they're frequently vicious affairs. Pride and the lure of prizes, from coin to a place in a noble's retinue, drive the fighters to inflict mortal injuries.

Kate's only ever been to one Proving, back home in Skald. It was a much smaller amphitheatre, a much smaller event. But even with her father, a bastion of calm and kindness by her side, the excitement of the crowd and the blood of the combatants had overwhelmed her.

Kate shudders, tries in vain to close it all out. "I need to get away from here for a while. Maybe if I go for a walk, try to calm myself..."

Victoria eyes narrow. "There's no fucking way you're leaving me alone with these people!"

Kate peers round the box. Duchess Prescott, after standing on Kate's foot and calling Victoria's dress 'delightfully provincial' upon arriving, has since been content to sniff disapprovingly at every remark addressed to her.

Magistrate Wells, who had alcohol on his breath when he escorted them here this morning, is trying to stealthily top up his wine with spirits from a silver flask. The Duke and his heir have yet to make an appearance, but the box nonetheless feels crowded with servants and guards. None of them seem friendly.

Victoria's been Kate's companion for only a week. It's felt far longer. But while she's...difficult, she and Kate are bonded in their service to the Gods and to the people of Elysium. Besides, underneath her haughty mask, she's almost as nervous as Kate.

But there's no calm presence here to stabilise Kate and Victoria's own fraying nerves are only making things worse. Kate knows she _has_ to get away from this box, even if it's for just a few minutes.

So Kate tries to smile reassuringly at Victoria, even as she stands up. "I'll be back before the Proving starts, I promise."

Victoria's glare intensifies for a moment, then she abruptly faces forward and raises her voice. "Kate. I saw merchants' stalls near the entry. Go and fetch me something to drink." She shoots a sideways glance at the Magistrate. "Something other than wine. Hot tea, perhaps. With honey."

The Duchess sniffs, and shakes her head. Wells hides his embarrassment behind a sip from his goblet.

Victoria reaches into the pouch on her belt, produces several silver marks. As she passes them to Kate, she hisses fiercely. "Seriously, be quick!"

"Of course, my lady." Kate almost bolts for the stairs, barely remembers to stop and curtsy first.

Kate gratefully escapes the Duchess' glower and the sonorous rumble of Wells' sycophancy, losing herself in the flow of people moving through the amphitheatre's walkways.

Kate feels adrift.

She's far from comfortable in this blue silk dress, pretending to be a servant. She understands the necessity of the deception, but remains troubled by the lie. She's troubled by many of the things she'll likely be party to in the days to come.

She's spent most of her life in the duchy of Skald, and it's been a quiet sort of life at that. She was confirmed into the priesthood less than a month ago, desiring nothing more than to serve the spiritual needs of her people. But instead she's been selected to embark on a mission whose outcome will determine the future of the entire country.

She's always been clumsy and awkward. She's always tried to be honest and diligent. Yet somehow she's supposed to help Victoria uncover the truth behind King Gregory's death, recover the divine essence of Kronus that once flowed in his veins, crown a new monarch and avert a civil war.

It's so much responsibility, more than she ever dreamed she'd be given. And she'll shoulder it as best she can, she will, but...it's all so very _daunting_.

She's so distracted that she takes a wrong turn and finds she's gotten herself lost. When she turns around to try and retrace her steps, she walks into someone. A tall, sneering, heavily-armed warrior who rounds on her so savagely that the apology she tries to utter trips on her tongue and escapes her lips as little more than a squeak.

The towering warrior turns away from the knot of fighters he was talking to and faces Kate full on. His angry expression fades as he looks her up and down. The smile that grows in its place is much less reassuring.

"Did I scare you? Sorry, but a little serving-girl like you should be more careful. You could've run into a real nasty type in a place like this."

She needs to get out of here without causing a scene. So she casts her eyes down, for once grateful at the ease with which she blushes. "Please forgive my clumsiness. E-excuse me, my lord."

He steps in front of her when she tries to move away, though. Hooks a thumb into his belt near the hilt of his sword. "Hey, there's no need to run off. My name's Logan. Let me escort you. You really shouldn't be alone in a rough place like this. "

"Oh, I'm not alone! I'm with my mistress. I need to get back to her in the Prescott box, in fact. So, please let me-."

He laughs. "What do you know? It so happens Nathan Prescott is a good friend of mine. I'll walk you over there. He won't mind if we take our time, either."

"That's...kind, but no thank you."

He's frowning a little now. "What do you mean? Come on. It'll be nice!"

Kate nervously reaches for the gold tree symbol she normally wears around her neck. In deference to secrecy, though, it's sitting in a drawer in her room at the temple in Skald. She feels very small in that moment, struggling to remember that the Gods are always with her.

Her eyes dart around the curving corridor. Logan's companions are mostly paying them no mind. One has drifted a little closer to Logan though, grinning. There are other people in the corridor, some idly chatting, some making their way to the stands. None of them paying much attention to what's happening here.

Kate raises her chin and her voice.

"Well, I think it would be _nice_ if you got out of my way. I have duties to attend to and I really don't want to talk to you anymore."

She manages two steps before he moves.

He grabs her shoulder, turns her to face him again. His face is red and his lips twitch down and out in an ugly little pout. "You can't talk to me like that, serving-girl! Don't you know who I-"

"Hey, cousin, there you are! You shouldn't run off like that!"

Logan releases her and turns to face the newcomer. Kate blinks, and looks round to see a tall young woman swaggering towards her, hand raised in greeting and gleaming white teeth on display.

She looks precisely like a pirate.

She's wearing a tattered green coat, a blue bandana and a sword at her hip. She's around Kate's age, but there's little else they have in common. She's at least a head taller than Kate, lean, fit and fierce. There's an indolent grace to her movements, but Kate can see tension in her jaw and shoulders. Her eyes are arctic blue, but there's fire in them and Kate shivers as their gazes meet.

She's not sure she's ever seen anyone so angry before. She's certainly never seen anyone so _alive_.

The woman closes the distance between them in a few quick strides, watching Logan out of the corner of her eye, even as she seems to ignore him. She gets between Logan and Kate, chattering amiable nonsense while deftly manoeuvring Kate out of Logan's reach.

"You didn't forget you were meeting cousin Chloe by the traders' stalls, did you?"

Chloe winks at Kate, then turns to face Logan and the men gathering at his back.

"Thanks for looking out for her. I've got it from here." She drapes an arm over Kate's shoulders. "C'mon, coz."

This close to her, Kate feels Chloe's anger as an almost tangible force. Though she appears at ease, her muscles are tense and ready. But for all that, Kate doesn't feel threatened. In fact, she's surprised by how reassuring Chloe's presence is. It's strange, almost as if...

She's so distracted she almost forgets Logan. He steps in close, right hand gripping the hilt of his sword. "You're cousins? I don't see the resemblance."

"Ooh, that's a long word. You shouldn't overexert yourself like that!" Logan growls, and Chloe lets go of Kate and holds up her right hand placatingly. "Sorry, sorry. No need to get all riled up." She nudges Kate. "Can you believe he doesn't see the resemblance? Maybe you need a closer look. You'll see what I'm talking about."

She steps quickly into Logan's space, not giving him any time to react. He's several inches taller than her, and considerably heavier, but he just gasps and pales when she gets close, his sullen anger washed away in an instant.

It takes Kate a moment to understand why, but then she sees a glint of metal and realises that Chloe has a small knife pressed against Logan's...what he would never want something sharp pressed against. The way Chloe's standing, it's only the three of them that know about it, too.

Chloe's smiling sunnily. "You see my point now, right?"

"You little-"

Chloe shifts her hand slightly and Logan immediately snaps his mouth shut. Chloe pitches her voice lower, leaks a little more of her rage with every word. "Shh. You should be more careful about what you say. And _do_. My cousin and I are going, now. Unless you think you and I should talk about your attitude problem more...privately?"

Logan's friends are frowning, not sure what's happening, but sure it's not good. One of them starts moving up on Chloe's left side. The others are spreading out to fill the corridor. In another few seconds, they'll be surrounded.

Kate has a feeling that if someone sensible doesn't do something, there's going to be quite a bit of blood spilled.

Another wild look around and, oh, by Kronus' grace, _she's_ the only viable someone nearby. She takes as deep a breath as she can manage.

"C-cousin, please. I need your help to buy tea for Lady Chase, and to carry it to the Prescotts' box. She'll be furious if we keep her waiting."

Logan's friends are pulling away now, as those names register and with them the realisation that they could get into _trouble_ here. Kate has to pause to push her own little surge of disgust aside.

"Chloe! We don't want to miss the start of the Proving. And I'm sure these...nice men have preparations to make. Isn't that right, Logan?"

He opens his mouth, then winces. He carefully nods instead.

To Kate's immense relief Chloe takes a couple of steps back from Logan. She's still tense, but the little knife has vanished and her voice is suddenly cheerful again.

"Well, then. Nice to meet you, Logan. Looking forward to seeing you out there." Chloe backs up to Kate, gesturing in the direction of the arena floor.

Logan's face twists and twitches and finally settles into a vicious sneer. "You're competing? Good. You've made a big mistake, little girl. You caught me off guard, but I'll be happy to show you exactly what I can do when we're out there."

Chloe grins. "Well, that shouldn't take long."

Logan bristles, but another warrior grabs his arm. "Come on, brother. Playtime's over. We need to get ready."

Logan nods, glares at Chloe. "I'll see you later."

"Have a nice day!"

Kate grabs Chloe's hand and hustles her off in the opposite direction, only stopping when there's several turnings between Logan and them.

Then she leans against a wall, closes her eyes and tries to shut out the sounds of the people walking past. She waits for her heart to slow down. Even with her eyes closed, she's very much aware of Chloe leaning quietly against the wall beside her.

She's still a little surprised and flustered when she looks up to find Chloe staring at her intently. "You okay?"

Kate can sense the anger in Chloe, still, but it's tamped down, and there's no edge in the smile she's offering. If anything, she looks a little sheepish.

Shy, even.

Kate's distress abruptly leaves her and she finds some hard to define, but _good_ tangle of emotions welling up within her. She smiles warmly up at the taller woman, says simply: "Yes. Thank you."

Kate's rewarded with the first genuine smile she's seen on Chloe's face. It's sweet and radiant and all too brief. "Oh, that's okay. Anything for family. Nice to meet you, cousin...?"

"Kate. Kate Marsh. Um, just call me Kate." She wilts a bit. She's not supposed to tell anyone her real family name.

"Well, Kate. I'm Chloe...Price. Welcome to Arcardia, where even the streets are paved with assholes. And, uh, thank _you_ for defusing things back there. I get a little carried away sometimes."

Kate shakes her head. "I'm just glad there wasn't any violence. But how did you know I'm not from Arcadia?"

Chloe shrugs. "Easy. You're not an asshole."

Kate snorts out a laugh, then covers her mouth with her hand. "Thanks. Um. Neither are you."

Chloe's smile thins out. "Don't be so sure about that, Kate."

Kate pulls herself up to her full height and summons her fiercest glare. "There were at least a half-dozen other people in that corridor. You're the only one who decided to do something. You are _not_ a...a...You're a good person. I can tell."

Chloe looks down at her, bemused. "Hella! No one's accused me of that before."

Before Kate can find an answer to that, they're interrupted by the sound of a horn ringing out.

"What's that?"

"The first event's going to start in a few minutes. I better go get ready."

Kate sighs. "Are you...do you really have to fight?"

Chloe's expression becomes sombre. "I...yeah. It's a long story, but...yeah. I have to."

"I see." Kate may not know the details, but she can sense the reluctance in Chloe. "Well. Be careful Chloe. Especially if you're going up against Logan. He looked ready to kill you."

Chloe seems quite smug about that. "Oh, I'm sure he's good and pissed."

"Well..." Kate's not normally so impulsive, but as soon as the idea flits into her mind, she stands up on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on Chloe's cheek. "Thank you again. And good luck."

Chloe lets out a startled laugh. "Good luck to you, too." She touches her cheek and shakes her head. "Wait, can you find your way from here?"

Kate nods. "Yes. I'll be fine. I suppose I should hurry, though. I really do need to fetch some tea."

Neither of them moves for another moment, though, till

Chloe shifts awkwardly and clears her throat. "Uh, Kate?"

"Yes?"

"I kinda need my hand back."

Kate looks down to where she's still gripping Chloe's fingers and quickly lets go, feeling a blush consume her face. "Oh! I'm sorry, I-"

Chloe chuckles. "It's okay. It was nice. Um, meeting you, I mean." She stares at Kate intently for another second, then nods. "Goodbye, Kate."

Then she's striding away, even as Kate calls after her,

"Maybe I'll see you after the Proving?"

Chloe glances back, smiles sadly. "Maybe."

Her eyes say no, though, and a few more strides take her round the curve of the wall and out of sight.

When Kate gets back to the box, with tea and a small plate of dainties, the Duke has arrived but there's still no sign of Nathan. Victoria's stuck between the Duke and the Magistrate, being alternately talked over or down to and there's murder in her eyes when she sees Kate.

"What took you so long?"

The Duchess sniffs. "Such poor service merits a whipping. Do you whip servants in Skald?"

Victoria offers her a poisonous smile. "Unfortunately not."

She glances back at Kate. "She'll be punished in...other ways though, I assure you."

Kate's almost positive Victoria's just saying that for the sake of their cover.

She stands behind and a little to the side of Victoria's chair and is actually relieved when the Duke signals the master of ceremonies. She's not looking forward to enduring the Proving, but at least no one's likely to look her way again until it's over. And, in spite of everything, she _does_ feel better. She feels strong enough to get through this now.

She lets her mind drift as Duke Prescott bellows out a speech about the forthcoming union of Arcadia and Skald. Kate wonders if she'll ever see Chloe again. She sensed so much anger and pain in her, but a good heart underneath it, fighting to emerge. And perhaps something...more.

Kate's snapped back to the present by the roar of the crowd. A dozen people make their way onto the sands, and begin spreading out around the edge of the arena as cheers echo round the stands. The fighters below provide an answer to at least one of Kate's questions when she spots Chloe walking out amongst them, looking quite frail from this distance.

She leans over towards Magistrate Wells. "Could you please tell me what this event is?"

Magistrate Wells surprises her with a kind smile. "This first event's something called the Warrior's Circle. It's a test of skill, nerve and endurance. Somewhere between the free-for-all of a melee and the tactical nuance of the duelling circle. They'll take their places around the edge of the arena, evenly spaced out. When the horn sounds, there won't be some rush into the middle, but a series of duels between two or three opponents. Each fighter wants to be the last one standing, so they've got to watch for opportunities to take out their opponents and watch their backs at the same time. Normally fighters will yield before they're badly injured. Mutual respect helps keep the Circle one of the more...dignified bouts."

Kate's still anxious, but she feels some small measure of relief.

Wells swigs from his goblet and sighs. "It can be quite a spectacle, when veteran warriors are involved. But these are mostly young, less disciplined fighters, out to make names for themselves." He grimaces. "It'll be messy. I'd expect a fatality or two."

To Kate's surprise, Duke Prescott chimes in, albeit without deigning to look at her. "Keep an eye on that one, the Mermedonian." He gestures towards a squat, thick-muscled man with pallid skin and a spear cradled in his arms. "I've bet a hundred marks on him. He'll destroy the competition." He chuckles happily. "He'll cause a fatality or two all by himself, I'm quite sure."

Kate's knuckles whiten on the back of Victoria's seat, even as she meekly thanks Wells. Beyond a quick glance, she ignores the Duke's advice and focuses on the girl in the green coat.

Chloe takes her place at the edge of the loose circle, the other fighters all spread out around the arena. Chloe's far away from the Mermedonian, at least. She seems calm, breathing deep and even. She's turned slightly towards the slim young man to her left, watching him take blindingly swift practice swings with his rapier. Chloe's so intent on him she doesn't seem to have noticed who's moved into place on her right.

It's Logan.

Even from here, Kate can see the deadly intent on his face as he stares at Chloe.

A new horn sounds, its note deep and growling. Kate feels her heart pound as the fighters begin to move, looking for any opportunity to strike at an unwary opponent. Chloe turns to more fully face the man with the rapier, who's slowly inching towards her. As Kate feels terror climb from the pit of her stomach and invade her chest and limbs, she sees that Chloe hasn't even drawn her sword. She just shrugs off her coat and starts methodically folding it up.

As she puts her coat down on the arena sand, Chloe leaves her back fully exposed to Logan. He's been watching her, slowly advancing, but now he sees his chance and rushes her, heavy sword raised high in both hands.

Kate finds herself lunging forward, shrieking "Chloe! Look out!"

She's too distracted to notice the shocked looks the others in the box are giving her, too absorbed in the events unfolding below to care.

Chloe can't hear her, though, not over the roar from the stands as the first fighters clash. She's straightening up, reaching at long last for her sword.

Too late.

Logan's looming over Chloe now, and as Kate watches helplessly, he swings hard enough to cut her in two.

Kate can do nothing, only whisper: "Oh, Kronus! No."


	4. Fight Club

Chloe can feel Kate's gaze on her back as she strides away. She's so absorbed in that strange encounter that she doesn't protest when a harassed attendant chivvies her into a tiny waiting room.

She's almost late for the start of the event, and where ritual violence is concerned, punctuality is crucial. Chloe lets herself get yelled at, then sits down on the stone floor, listening to the roar of the crowd.

There's an unaccustomed warmth in Chloe's gut, a lightness of feeling she can't usually approximate without chemical assistance. Her cheek tingles.

Not where her head should be right now.

She enjoys it for a moment anyway, then forces herself to think about the plan.

Though calling it a plan is a bit of a stretch, since it amounts to nothing more than 'mess up Logan Robertson so that he can't fight for a while'. When Rachel and Jules laid it out for her in the _Two Whales_ this morning, it was pretty clear they were improvising.

One of many reasons to hate this.

Juliet, Gods bless her gossipy little heart, went into the backstory in exhaustive detail. It boils down to this: Juliet's friend, Dana, was romantically entangled with Logan. Logan's a noble's son, a trained warrior and one of Nathan Prescott's bodyguards. Dana dumped Logan, then met and now wants to marry Trevor, a talented metal-worker. Logan, pissed, managed to provoke Trevor into an argument which resulted in Logan challenging Trevor to a duel.

Now, while duels are often used as a means of settling disputes and grievances, duels to the death are forbidden. But given Logan's skill with a blade, Trevor's lack of it, and the willingness of Magistrate Wells to overlook 'accidents' that involve the Prescotts or their cronies, Trevor's likely a dead man. Unless someone intervenes, his execution's set for tomorrow morning.

Rachel being Rachel, she's got some dirt on Logan's second, Zachary, which means that he'll forfeit on Logan's behalf and Trevor will be safe. _If_ Logan doesn't make it into the dueling ring tomorrow.

Which is both where Chloe comes in, and another reason to hate this plan. Chloe's a thief, yes, and she's committed a number of other crimes of which she's not exactly proud. And, true, she's not a stranger to violence. But she doesn't hurt people for money. That's what David does, and Chloe is _nothing_ like that man.

Rachel's best pitch was to think about the money: "I wouldn't ask you normally, but...Juliet needs this. And so do you. Dana's putting up a hundred marks. Juliet and I are matching it. Make sure Logan can't make it into the ring tomorrow and you go a long way to solving your money troubles."

"No. Not even for the full five hundred."

Rachel had leaned in, offering a dazzling grin. "I haven't even told you the best part. Logan's competing in the Grand Proving this afternoon. And it just so happens there's a spot opened up in the first event. The one Logan will be competing in. You could take Logan down and between the fee and the prize money you could earn-"

"So I just compromise my principles, make an enemy of the Prescotts, and do it all in _public_? Great plan, Rachel!"

"It's not like you'll be around long enough for much of that to matter." Chloe's forced to admit, thinking back now, that Rachel had both a point and a distinct edge in her voice.

She and Rachel could have easily argued all morning, but Juliet cut through it all with just a few quiet words. "Please. Chloe...Dana's my best friend. You're the best chance she's got."

It was over after that, and they all knew it. Chloe's protests had been token things, really, and Rachel had all the answers.

No, the Grand Proving wouldn't accept just any walk-in, but Rachel just so happened to have a registration form lacking only Chloe's signature to make her an official fighter in the Proving. Chloe would be taking part in a Warrior's Circle, so yes, just about any weapon was acceptable. And, yes, she would have a chance to get at Logan and no one would be too suspicious if he was badly injured. No, she wouldn't have to win the event to claim a prize, just outlasting half the other fighters would do.

They'd talked over a few more details, given Chloe Logan's description and the registration form and that was that.

So here she is.

She sits in the sweaty little room as the crowd noise dims and a single voice begins a droning oratory. Duke Prescott, no doubt. Not long until the violence starts. Chloe will admit, having seen Logan in action, she's got no qualms about giving him a beating. She still feels awkward about the money, but she can hardly pretend it's the first line she's crossed to get out of Arcadia. To get free.

She's more worried about the crowd, and the attention she's about to draw to herself. But even then, how bad can it be? She'll take out Logan, then she'll let herself get taken out a little later. No one's going to remember a loser like her. It should be fine. It will be fine. Chloe sighs. Maybe she should have just dealt with Logan when she had the chance, away from too many eyes. But where would that have left Kate?

Before she recognises the nascent thought for what it is, she finds herself hoping Kate's okay. Kate Marsh with her sad, pretty eyes and deep wells of kindness. She deserves better than the likes of Logan. Void take it, she deserves better than anything she's likely to find in Arcadia. It's been a long time since Chloe's known anyone so straightforward and...nice. In that sense, she reminds Chloe a little bit of Max.

And _that's_ a thought that needs to be pushed away, immediately. So Chloe jumps up and checks to make sure her sabre's loose in its sheath and her sap draws easily out of her pocket. The she starts pacing and quietly singing and trying not to let any unwanted memories loose. In truth, she only vaguely remembers the details of the night she last gave way to even a little of the guilt and rage she associates with Max. She only really came back to herself when someone pulled her bleeding and crying out of the gutter and tried to soothe her and patch her hurts.

Rachel. That was how she first met Rachel.

There's the sharp sound of a bolt being pulled back, and an attendant is opening the door to the arena antechamber. Chloe almost feels relieved at the prospect of imminent violence. It's better than being alone with her memories. She checks her weapons again, then walks into the new chamber warily, keeping her head down but taking in as much as she can with a few quick glances.

It's a large stone room with a lot of little doors through which the other fighters are all emerging. There's a set of double doors, closed but with enough light and noise leaking through gaps at the top and bottom that it's obvious what's on the other side of them.

Chloe tries to surreptitiously gauge the competition while making herself look as small and helpless as possible. She sees a young warrior with a rapier moving into place beside her. She's thinks his name's Evan. He's beginning to build a reputation for his blade work in the dueling ring. He seems a little out of place here, but then again there's a reason they call these things Provings. Maybe Evan wants to build his reputation that bit quicker than the duelling ring allows.

Then Logan's emerging into the antechamber, missing her on his first look round the room. She takes note of the chain hauberk, steel greaves on his forearms and shins, a steel half-helm tucked under his arm. Fairly heavy armour, but with enough vulnerabilities for her to work with. She keeps him in the corner of her eye as she heads towards the big gate that leads to the arena floor. She sees him stiffen when he catches sight of her, sees him move a little closer, then hesitate. He slips out of sight behind her and she smiles a little to herself, without looking up.

Any hint of a smile is wiped from Chloe's face when a stocky man an inch or so shorter than her strides into view on her left. He's a barrel-chested man, pale-skinned and dark-haired with at least ten more winters behind him than anyone else in the room. He's bare-chested, showing off an impressive collection of scars and thick slabs of muscle. He's carrying a spear, and two long knives sheathed on a broad leather belt. Hanging from the belt on a series of leather cords are a great many little bones.

Human bones.

He catches her looking and smiles at her, revealing yellowing teeth with tiny symbols carved into their surface. He whispers a single word: "Prey."

Chloe wrenches her gaze away and faces forward again. Pretends she doesn't hear the pleased little noise he makes in his throat.

Engramma Who-Sealed-the-Void. He's a Mermedonian reaver.

Mermedonia's a land far, far to the north, one hostile to travellers and shrouded in secrecy. Elyisum and Mermedonia are separated by a wide sea, which keeps them from trying to destroy each other. But it hasn't prevented killings on both sides. As Elyisans have pushed north, looking to explore and settle the Northlands now that the clans have been all but conquered, their ships and colonies have fallen prey to Mermedonian reavers. And while Elysian warships have destroyed the pirates where they can, more often it's Elysians and the clans alike that have been bled.

Mermedonian reavers never leave survivors. They sometimes take captives, if they're hungry. The like to keep some of the bones of the people they kill as souvenirs. They're near universally despised and feared, particularly in Arcadia, Elysium's greatest port.

But in recent years it seems that Mermedonia has gained a new ruler and a sudden desire for diplomatic relations. And with no King to oppose him, and five other duchies in the country all vying to take control of the throne, Sean Prescott has decided to take allies where he can find them and welcomed the Mermedonians into his city.

It's things like this that make politics a business honest crooks like Chloe prefer to avoid. But there's no reason she can think of why even a Prescott would let a _reaver_ into the city.

Chloe grits her teeth, tries to still her shaking hands. Tries not to think about Max, or the knife sheathed at her back, or-

A deep voice behind her rumbles: "Breathe. Just breathe, lady. Not long, now."

Chloe doesn't need to look back to know that he's Northern clan, the accent's a pretty good clue. Elyisum and the clans have a long and bloody history between them, as tends to happen when neighbours see something they want on the other side of a border. But she was still a child during the last war, and thinks there's fault enough on both sides. Besides, any grudges being held should be worn smooth by how often they've been passed back and forth. At any rate, she's grateful for the steady calm of his voice.

So she nods her head, and breathes and wills the tension out of her body.

A few seconds later, a horn blares and the hinges of the big gates groan as they swing open.

Then the twelve of them are moving from the dim, still room onto the sand and into the gale of cheering voices urging them on to the bloodletting.

They spread out across the sand, form the Circle around the edge of the arena's oval. She glances round and spots the clansman, a tall, well-built man with a red, braided beard. He's wearing a boiled leather breastplate and carrying a war axe over his shoulder. He nods at her. "Helgi Snorrasson. Luck to you."

"Chloe. William's daughter. Luck to you, too."

She manages to position herself far enough away from the Mermedonian and Helgi. Ends up with Evan on her left, and tries to focus more on that side of the arena. Logan's on her right, and she's still pretending she hasn't seen him. She wonders if she's making it too obvious, then remembers who she's dealing with. She doesn't think Logan's the subtlest of thinkers.

Then they're all in place, just waiting for the pain to happen. Chloe touches her cheek again, allows herself one soft thought.

The horn sounds, this time signaling the start of the Proving. There's an explosion of movement as the fighters try to catch their nearest opponent off guard. Chloe takes her time, though. She slips off her coat, folds it up and puts it down carefully beside her. As she does so, she tries to remember why she's doing this. She's getting out of Arcadia soon. She's maybe going to get out of Elysium altogether. She's had dreams about exploring the Northlands, Void take her if she knows why. Point is, the next few minutes aren't about anger or vengeance. This is all about securing her future.

It's time to get to work.

Chloe continues to ignore Logan and instead watches Evan warily advancing on her. He's reputed to be a clever, careful swordsman. But he's someone used to one-on-one matches and seems uncomfortable in this type of fight, glancing around him every couple of steps to make sure no one's coming at his back. He's heading for Chloe, though, that's clear. Seems she's made herself look like an easy target to more than just Logan.

So even as Chloe listens to Logan's rumbling steps and rasping breath close in behind her, she shows Evan the sap she palmed when she put her coat down, and grins at him.

Evan's cautious enough to be worried by Chloe's attitude and patient enough to see the outcome of Logan's attack before committing to his own. He slows down, looks around him again. There's the sound of steel on steel, of blood hitting the sand and the first cries of the wounded. Everyone else is busy. For now, it's just the three of them in this little patch of sand. Good. She has the time she needs.

Logan's big, wearing heavy armour and carrying a long, heavy blade. But he's also angry, so full of the need to hurt Chloe that he isn't thinking clearly. And that means he's been beaten since Chloe stopped him getting into Kate's face. She keeps her back to him, but she can hear him, _feel_ him as he rushes her. She can feel the moment he closes in on her back. The moment he overcommits to the attack.

So that's the moment Chloe drops down suddenly and tucks into a roll that takes her safely under Logan's sword before he even realises it's happening. The pace of his attack carries him forward, past her, allowing her to spring to her feet behind him and a little to his right. He checks, turns and tries to catch her with the backswing, but Chloe's lunging forward, inside his reach. She brings the sap up and down and connects with his right arm between his elbow and the protection of his steel greave. The force she applies added to his own momentum is enough to snap the bones in his forearm, ruin his attack and make him gasp in pain.

For a fraction of a second he's just staring down at her, shock in his eyes. Chloe winks at him, then gets moving again.

Evan's watching the whole thing, ten feet away still, but he's smart enough to know that he should be attacking right now while Chloe's busy and he's got the advantage of a long blade against her little club. He starts rushing towards the two of them.

Logan drops his heavy sword, tries to fumble out his dagger with his left hand. Chloe feints high with the sap, and when he flinches back, she darts behind him, putting his bulk between her and Evan. Then she attacks low, thinking to hit the back of Logan's knee, drop him to the ground without causing any permanent damage. She's already done enough to prevent him dueling tomorrow.

As she moves into Logan's shadow, though, Chloe remembers the way Logan grabbed Kate. Threatened her. She thinks about Kate's kindness. Her soft lips.

Chloe twitches her wrist, changes the angle of the sap. Breaks his knee.

She keeps circling behind Logan even as he collapses to the sand out of the fight. She's completely focused on Evan now, who's moving around Logan in the opposite direction, trying to close the gap between them as quickly as possible. He's in a duelist's stance, keeping his right side to her, rapier point turning in tight little circles in the air. Cautious he may be, but he's no doubt thinking the better part of caution is looking for an opportunity to make a clean lunge and stick her before she can draw her sabre.

Evan's watching her closely, eyes focused on her shoulders, waiting for any telltale twitch. He's smiling, confident. Chloe moves back and away, buying a little time but opening up clear ground between them. A quick look around shows there's a rapidly shrinking pool of fighters still in this. Helgi and the Mermedonian are making short work of the competition. Chloe reckons she can lose here, and still earn enough prize money.

Time to take a dive.

She'll fumble pulling her sabre, pretend to trip, lose her balance just as Evan's getting into striking range. She'll fall back as he thrusts, take a scratch and wind up on her ass, forced to yield. Evan might see through it, but he's unlikely to care if he gets a win and it'll look real enough to the crowd.

She's a step away from doing it when Evan chuckles. "On the run already? I thought perhaps this quiet child might know how to fight."

Oh, Hella! He's an asshole.

Chloe's not sure if it's the Gods' blessing that's made her so confrontational, or if it's just in consequence of the unparalleled shittiness of the last five years, but it doesn't seem to take much to get her angry these days. And maybe's it's just that she doesn't normally get into fights _unless_ she's angry, but it seems like there's times when her blood's running hot that she's stronger, faster than she has any right to be.

And Chloe can feel it right now, like a tide rising in her mind, like fire in her veins. Evan's every move seems to be happening slowly, in fact _everything_ seems to be slowing down, except her heart.

So maybe this is a bad idea, and maybe she needs to rein the anger in before it's completely out of control, but she won't lose to this fucker now.

Evan takes two quick steps then launches himself forward. He's looking to startle her with the sudden motion, then lunge and skewer her before she can dodge.

Chloe waits for him to land then tosses the sap before he's able to extend into the lunge. He's been waiting for her to try this, of course, and is quick to leap to the right, away from the other fighters and out of the sap's path. But Chloe didn't throw it straight at him, she threw it in an arc. It's a move that confuses him, so much that for nearly half a second he's watching Chloe's only readied weapon follow a trajectory that would never have hit him, even if he hadn't moved.

Chloe wasn't trying to hit him, is the thing. The sideways move on his part takes his point out of line and opens more of his body to attack, while the distraction gives Chloe the time she needs to race forward, pick her target and strike.

Chloe doesn't bother drawing her sword. It'll only slow her down. Besides, Evan's earned a little humiliation.

Chloe imagines a locked door she needs to get through. Imagines the lock plate in line with and six inches behind Evan's crotch. Then she kicks out with all her might.

He doesn't scream. There's not enough breath left in his body to manage it.

He tries to finish the thrust he started, but his arm's shaking and there's not much strength in it. She dodges easily. She steps inside his reach while pulling her knife with her right hand. She clamps her left on the wrist of his sword arm before he can try anything else with it. He's pale and shaking on his feet, so when she presses her knife to his throat and cheerfully suggests: "Yield?", he simply whimpers and drops his sword. She makes sure he isn't going to try anything more aggressive than vomiting, then leaves him to his misery in private.

Well, as private as you can get in the middle of an arena, anyway.

Chloe scans the area quickly as she slips her knife away and finally draws her sabre. In the time it's taken her to put down Evan and Logan, the fighting elsewhere has whittled down the other fighters to just three. The clansman, Helgi, is trying to hold his own against an Arcadian fighter and the Mermedonian who seem to have formed a temporary alliance.

Even as Chloe starts jogging to the other side of the arena, the clansman's defence falters. The Arcadian charges in, trying to end the fight, but Helgi's ready for him. His axe whips up, one head deflecting the Arcadian's downward slash, while his fist crashes into the Arcadian's gut. He staggers, gasping and Helgi drives the butt of his axe into his face.

The Arcadian drops to his knees, dazed, but Helgi's left himself open for real this time, and the Mermedonian's spear point punches through Helgi's leather breastplate and comes back out slick with blood.

Chloe's still twenty feet away and can only watch as Helgi staggers back, gasping in pain. The Arcadian tries to struggle to his feet, but the reaver just laughs, plucks a knife from his belt with his left hand and opens the Arcadian's throat with one quick swipe. He laughs again and salutes with the spear in his right hand as the crowd roars with hate and ecstasy.

The Mermedonian turns back to Helgi. Helgi darts in, tries a clumsy overhead blow with his axe, but the Mermedonian twists out of the way. He twists back and slashes Helgi's thigh with his knife before Helgi can recover. Helgi tries to back away, give himself room to strike, but his leg gives out and he slips. Before he has a chance to right himself, the Mermedonian slams the butt of his spear into Helgi's face. Helgi drops onto his back, senseless and the Mermedonian laughs again then stands over Helgi's head. He gently places the butt of his spear against Helgi's throat, and slowly presses down, a happy little smile on his face.

He looks up quick enough when Chloe's shadow falls across him, though.

She doesn't recognise her own voice when she says "Leave him alone. You're not done fighting yet, fucker."

He laughs. "Prey." He draws the syllable out, makes it a whole conversation. Takes a few steps away from Helgi, then drops into a ready stance, spear in his right hand aimed at her chest.

"Yeah. Prey." She closes the last ten feet between them slowly, trailing the point of her sabre in the sand. She doesn't hear the jeers and boos of the crowd demanding they fight. Just the hiss of the sand, the rasp of his breath and her own flat voice. "Wanna hear a story?"

Chloe stops walking. She's not close enough to hit him, but close enough to get hit by his spear.

His eyes are fever bright and there's blood on his arms, his chest.

"My best friend's name was Maxine Caulfield. It wasn't always easy to make her smile: she was shy, nervous. But she had the best smile. I lived for that smile."

He shows her his teeth.

"Her family left Arcadia five years ago. Pioneers, out to make a new colony in the Northlands."

He tilts his head, waits for her next words. There's no real curiosity in his face. Just a kind of hunger.

"My family was going too, part of the same expedition. But my mom got sick. Fever. She died. My dad and I stayed to...take care of everything. I could've gone with Max, but I didn't want to leave my dad. We found another ship though, a few weeks later, that would take us and a few others far enough north. We were going to join up with the colony, with the Caulfields. Build a new life. Wasn't anything left for us in this shit pit." Chloe waves her left arm to encompass the amphitheatre, the people, the city.

The crowd's mostly quiet now. They can't really hear her, but they can sense the tension building in the fighters on the sand.

"The day we took ship, the storm came. Killed a lot of people. Killed my dad. Not me, though. Ha! Anyway, I spent years hoping the Caulfields would come back, that Max would come back. Rescue me. When I realised they never would, I spent a solid year hating them. Hating _her_ for leaving me."

She hears the Mermedonian make another pleased little sound in his throat, sees him shift stance just slightly. She can hear Helgi's pained breaths.

"About two years ago, I overheard a story in a tavern. Turns out the _Venture_ , the ship my friend left on? Well, it was too far out to get destroyed by the storm, but it did get hit by heavy weather. Gales. They got blown off course, had to run way too far to the north. Into Mermedonian waters. The ship was found eventually. Drifting. A few bodies missing, but no survivors. There's never survivors, right?"

He speaks then, voice soft, almost cooing. "Maybe I wear one of her bones, hmm? Maybe not. Your sweet friend is surely dead, either way."

Chloe briefly closes her eyes, sees Max's face again. "I know."

She catches the head of his spear in her left hand, stops his thrust dead an inch short of her heart. She snaps the spearhead off with a flick of her wrist, staggering the Mermedonian.

She doesn't think about the pain or the blood trickling down her fingers.

Then she opens her eyes and smiles at the fear on his face.

"And now you know why you're dead, too."

Chloe lifts her sabre out of the sand. She finally lets all the anger out.


	5. The Prize

There's a moment of silence after what's left of the Mermedonian hits the ground.

Victoria turns her shocked face toward Kate, who gives her a tiny nod.

Then comes a trickle of shocked whispers, building to a murmur as people find their voices. Then a flood of cheering and howling as they lose their minds.

Kate turns her attention back to Chloe.

She watches Chloe drop her sabre, turn away and stumble over to her coat. Watches her grab fistfuls of sand and try to scrub the blood off her fingers. Watches her pick up the battered old garment and hug it to herself with her right hand. Watches her plod out of the arena, head hanging low as the crowd roar and cheer for her.

Duke Prescott is politely furious. "Who is that...girl? Does anyone recognise her?"

Kate blanches when the Duke turns and stares right at her. Before she can think of anything to say, Victoria intervenes.

"According to the rules you yourself set, Your Grace, her victory prize means that she's my new bodyguard." Her voice is deceptively mild.

He turns sharply towards her. "I don't think that would be appropriate, Victoria. We know nothing about this girl. Aside from the fact that she's unstable. And clearly dangerous."

Victoria smiles sweetly. "Dangerous is a useful quality in a bodyguard, don't you think? And she seems a lot more stable than the reaver _you_ championed, Sean."

Kate gulps and thinks about making a break for the exit.

Magistrate Wells clears his throat. "Excuse me, Your Grace. In fact, I do know the young lady. Her name is Chloe Madsen. She's the...niece of an associate of mine. Lady Chase, I fear that Duke Prescott is correct. I don't think she'd make a suitable companion-"

"I think she's perfectly suitable as a watchdog. I don't plan on inviting her to join us for family fucking dinners."

Magistrate Wells grimaces and shifts in his seat. He looks nervously at the Duke. "Sir, perhaps you might allow me to make some inquiries? I'm sure I could conduct a quiet...interview with Ms. Madsen and spare any public embarrassment."

"Very well. Expedite it please, Magistrate."

Kate can see how white Victoria's knuckles are where they grip the armrests of her seat. Kate quickly blurts out, "Lady Chase! Um, did you remember to take your tonic? For your headaches?"

Victoria twists round and glares at Kate. "Kate, what are you..." Her eyes widen. "Don't tell me you forgot to bring it?"

Kate bows her head as every pair of eyes in the box suddenly focus on her. She hears the Duchess sniff disapprovingly. "Perhaps I should go to the healers and see if they can-"

Victoria snorts and pushes herself upright. "You're nothing but an embarrassment today, Kate. If I don't supervise you, you'll only mess this up, too."

Duke Prescott frowns and waves a hand towards the arena sands where attendants are clearing the bodies and helping the wounded. "I can send someone. Someone competent. It would be a shame if you missed the next event."

Victoria performs a graceful curtsey and pours honey on her words. "Thank you, Your Grace, but I would like to stretch my legs. I'll return as swiftly as I can to enjoy the entertainment." Then she turns, snaps her fingers in Kate's face and snarls, "Come on."

They leave the box behind them, Victoria waving away the guards who offer to escort them. Victoria sets a brisk pace in the direction of the fighters' wing of the amphitheatre where the healers and, hopefully, Chloe will be. Kate has to jog to keep up with her longer legs.

When they've gone far enough to gain some privacy, Victoria slows down and lets Kate walk alongside her at a more manageable speed. "Kate? What the fuck is going on? Who is Chloe Madsen and why am I sticking my neck out for her?"

"She's obviously been blessed by the Gods, Victoria."

Victoria hisses out a breath. "Maybe."

In ages past, the Gods bestowed blessings on their Chosen. A portion of their divinity, their essence, infused into mortal beings. All of Elysium's noble houses can trace their lineage to the Gods' Chosen. Divine essence is passed on, through the bloodlines, diluted over the centuries, but still granting superior instincts and powers to the blessed. Elysian noble families protect the divine bloodlines jealously. Though of course, where humans are concerned, there's always...fallibility.

It's rare, but not unknown, for a child to be born outside the bloodlines with a tiny spark of the divine essence of one of the Gods in their veins.

It's rarer still for such a child to escape the notice of the priesthood for nearly twenty years, but there's no other explanation for Chloe's obvious gifts.

"I don't know who she is exactly, Victoria, but I believe the Gods put her in our path for a reason. We have to find her before any of the Magistrate's people do."

"You don't know who she is? You were screaming her name in front of the fucking Duke! Which won't be suspicious at all when she becomes part of our _secret mission_."

"I'm sorry! I...I met her before the fight. She was kind to me, and I thought Logan was going to kill her."

Victoria pinches the bridge of her nose. "Now I really am getting a fucking headache. Just tell me what happened already."

So Kate tells her everything.

* * *

They make their way back to where Kate jostled Logan an hour and a lifetime ago. Amongst the commotion of warriors and amphitheatre staff preparing the next event, no one challenges them as they make their way deeper into the underground maze of tunnels in search of the healers.

It only takes a few minutes to find the healers' rooms. After opening the wrong door several times, they finally slip into a quiet room with just two people in it. Chloe's sitting on a bench having her hand bandaged. Her eyes are red and her face weary. She looks small, huddled listlessly in her coat. The woman working on Chloe's hand glances up but Chloe just stares into space.

"Chloe?"

She stirs, slowly gathers herself. She looks at Kate and furrows her brow. "Kate?"

"Chloe, I...we need to talk. And there's not much time." Kate looks at the medic who looks back, eyebrows raised. "Perhaps, if you're finished here, there are other people to tend to?"

Victoria snorts and strides over to the woman. "Go be anywhere else and keep your mouth shut." She presses silver into her waiting hand and the healer wordlessly leaves, closing the door behind her.

Chloe's staring at her. "Kate, what are you doing here? You...you shouldn't be anywhere near me."

"Chloe, listen to me. After the...the fight, Magistrate Wells said he knew you. He was telling the Duke about you. I think they want to question you about...what happened."

Victoria laughs. "After the display you put on, one or two people might have gotten the impression that you are among the blessed. Oh, and you killed the Duke's favourite. He had silver bet on him, too. So I'd say it's less 'questions', more...violent interrogation followed by a cell or a grave."

As Victoria talks, she can see Chloe staring at Victoria with increasing comprehension. When she's finished, Chloe jumps up, cursing. "Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have listened to...never mind. Thanks Kate, I seriously owe you. But I've got to disappear right now."

Victoria gestures sharply and Kate reluctantly steps back and leans agains the door. Chloe's grateful expression changes to confusion.

"What are you doing?"

Victoria steps in front of Chloe. "We're not done talking yet."

Kate can see confusion rapidly giving way to anger and tries a more conciliatory tone. "Chloe, you have to listen to me. We can get you out of here, but I need you to trust us."

"No, Kate. I don't want you getting into trouble because of me. Just let me-"

"Chloe, _listen_ to me! This is Lady Victoria Chase. You can't outrun the Magistrate and the Duke, but she can shield you from them."

She looks at Victoria, then simply steps around her and addresses Kate again. "Kate, get out of my way. I don't want to...just...get away from the door, please?"

"Madsen isn't a noble family. Neither is Price."

Chloe's right hand bunches into a fist and she turns on Victoria who stands her ground unflinching. Her breathing is ragged. "What did you say? How did...Wells. Shit! You didn't tell anyone else my name's Price did you?"

Victoria slowly shakes her head. "Not yet. But there's a much more important question here." She nods at Kate.

Kate closes her eyes. She asks, very softly, "Which God?"

"...What?"

"Lady Chase is here for more than just her wedding. And I'm not really her maid. I'm a priestess of Aram the Just. We have a sacred mission to perform Chloe, on behalf of the Gods and the people of Elysium."

Kate opens her eyes, reluctantly. Chloe looks suddenly very young and very scared.

"You have been blessed, Chloe. There's divine essence in your veins. Part of me knew that when we first met. After seeing you fight, a lot of people will have suspicions. I have no doubts at all, though. I... _we_ want to help you. And I think you're meant to help us, too. But we have to be honest with each other. So. Which God blesses you?"

Chloe slumps, misery etched in her features. Kate wants to reach out, to reassure her. But she just stays where she is, and waits.

"Hella. I think it was Hella. Five years ago. I don't remember exactly how it happened, though. And She's been pretty fucking tight-lipped on the subject."

Kate feels the moorings of the world unfix themselves. She's glad she's leaning on the door, or she thinks she might have fallen.

Victoria scoffs. "Right, yeah. Okay, let's hear this ridiculous story."

Chloe doesn't seem to notice her at all. "It was the storm. The storm that hit Arcadia? I...I was the only survivor. I was in the ocean and...it must have been Hella. That's the only thing that makes sense. Though why she'd save _me_..." Chloe abruptly turns away and stomps back to the bench. She leans against it, her back turned to both of them.

Then the full implications of what that means begin to sink in. If what Chloe says is true, she's...oh, Gods, she's not some offshoot of an ancient bloodline. She's the first new Chosen in over one hundred years. This is beyond Kate. It's more, far more, than she can cope with.

Kate and Victoria exchange a look. Kate can feel her heart thundering and even Victoria's starting to look a little rattled.

Victoria stares at Chloe. "You survived the storm? And you weren't...you weren't born blessed?"

Chloe's voice is thick, tight. "That's what I just said, isn't it?"

Kate feels suddenly giddy. "Victoria! Do you know what this means? It's the storm that brought us here, the Gods are...the Gods are intervening. They...They're guiding us-"

"Shut up, Kate. Right now." Victoria's tone is flat, not full of her usual spite and scorn. She's staring at Chloe.

Kate stops talking, follows the direction of Victoria's gaze and suddenly realises that Chloe's shoulders are shaking, her body trembling. She's making muffled sounds as she tries to hide her sobs.

She was a child when the storm hit Arcadia. Her family... Kate feels scoured with shame. She quickly crosses the room, puts her hand on Chloe's back. "I'm sorry, Chloe. I'm so sorry for your loss."

Chloe jerks away from her. She paces towards the wall, swiping at her face. She takes a minute, before she faces them again, arms folded and face closed off.

"So, now what?"

There are a lot of things Kate wants to say, words of comfort and guidance. But they all wither on her tongue.

"Now you have to swear an oath of loyalty to me," Victoria says.

Chloe raises an eyebrow.

"Once you're sworn to me, we can tell you everything. And Duke Prescott won't be able to go after you. Not openly, at least." Victoria frowns. "You fought hard enough to win the right to be my bodyguard. You must've known this would be coming."

Chloe shakes her head, shoulders quivering. For a moment, Kate's worried that Chloe's going to cry again. Then she bursts out laughing.

Victoria bristles. "What's so fucking funny?"

"You...you nobles! You think _that's_ a prize? Hella! I thought I was going to get money. You know, something useful?"

Victoria's reduced to indignant sputtering, but Kate can't help but blurt out, "You were just fighting for _money_? With the gifts you have-"

Chloe's voice is soft, but her eyes are cold and hard. "You don't know me, Kate. Or my reasons. And _you_." She jabs a finger at Victoria. "I'm not swearing loyalty to you for the rest of my fucking life. I'll take my chances on my own."

Victoria scoffs. "Suits me. Come on, Kate, this is just a waste of-"

"Five days!"

They both look at her.

"Victoria's marrying Nathan Prescott in five days time. If we haven't found-

"Kate, you can't tell her-"

"If we haven't found what we're looking for by then, it won't matter anymore. Just swear to be loyal for five days, Chloe."

Chloe bites her lip. "You're...really a priestess?"

"Yes. Although, I...I only took my vows last month."

"You're being on the level with me about this...sacred mission stuff?"

"Yes. We're trying to stop a war. And I believe you're meant to help us, Chloe."

She's quiet for a long time before slowly, reluctantly nodding. "Okay. Five days. Then I'm gone."

Victoria sighs. "Thank the Gods. Can we get a move on? I need to get back soon."

Kate nods. "Join hands."

Chloe baulks for a moment, then sighs and reluctantly takes Victoria's hand. Kate takes hold of each of their free hands. As soon as she does, she feels the powerful energies wakening in both women. "Chloe Price. Do you swear to protect Victoria Chase from all who would harm her? And to obey her commands as if they were your own desires? For, um, the next five days."

Chloe looks far from happy about that, but her defiant look fades as she makes eye contact with Kate. She sucks in a deep breath, then grunts. "Sure. I...swear."

"Victoria-"

"I swear to take Chloe Price as my vassal. To offer her shelter and to only give her commands that increase both our honour." Victoria rolls her eyes. "For, um, the next five days," she adds woodenly.

Kate gathers her focus and concentrates on the divine essence within each woman. "And so you are bound."

Kate can feel it when their energies flare, mingle, then recede, leaving an invisible tether binding them.

Victoria gasps. "She...she really is one of Hella's Chosen..."

Chloe snatches her hands away. "What the fuck just happened? What...what did you do to me?"

Kate feels the blood drain from her face. "I thought you knew..."

"Knew what? Huh?"

Victoria shivers, coming out of her reverie. "When people like us swear oaths, our essence makes them truly binding. You can't break this oath, Chloe. Not without serious consequences."

Chloe's shaking with anger, and staring at Kate. "You...you ask me to trust you, then you fucking make me into some sort of... _slave_?"

Kate feels tears sting her eyes and she does not want to cry, not in front of...Victoria. "No! It isn't like that! And...and, we don't have a choice-"

"Right. Mission first, everything else can just go-"

"Enough!" Victoria gets into Chloe's face, pushes her away from Kate. "We don't have time for this. It is not Kate's fault. And it is done. Get over it."

"Is that an order?"

"No, _this_ is an order: Tell no one else about our mission unless I say it's okay."

Chloe hunches instinctively, then slowly relaxes when nothing happens.

Victoria pinches the bridge of her nose again. "Crikos give me strength. You'll know it if you try to break one of my commands. Just like I will if I try to make you do something awful. It works both ways, okay?"

Chloe nods warily. "Okay. For now."

"Fine! Now we need to get moving. I've taken too long here as it is. Kate, get Chloe to my carriage and get her somewhere out of sight while I smooth things over with the Prescotts. Fill Chloe in on everything and see what the two of you can figure out. Chloe, look after Kate and if she gives you an order, don't argue with her. Let's go."

Victoria storms out of the room, not waiting for a reply. That leaves Kate and Chloe staring awkwardly at each other.

Chloe looks away and rubs the back of her neck. "Sorry I yelled at you," she mumbles.

"It's okay."

Chloe's shoulders tense and she looks Kate in the eye. Her gaze is intense, but far from hostile. "No, it's not. I'm confused and...scared. But I shouldn't take that out on you."

Kate feels a flutter of something warm in her chest.

Relief. That they're making up. That's what it must be.

"Will you trust me for a little while, Chloe? At least for long enough for us to talk and figure out the next step. Please?"

Chloe scrubs her face with her hands, shakes herself. She finds a crooked grin from somewhere. "Sure. What else can go wrong today, right?"

* * *

So of course, Logan's friends from an hour ago are waiting for them at the end of the hall.


End file.
